


Marble

by E350tb



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Living Statue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E350tb/pseuds/E350tb
Summary: He is a boy with a crushing destiny, who needs someone to confide in.She is a statue.





	1. Marble

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random thing I wrote last night, but I think I'll continue it!

**Marble**

She is a statue.

She hasn't always been a statue. There is a _before_; something she remembers like a faded dream. But it doesn't seem to matter these days. She is a statue, holding her pose, and has been for a long time. She's got a nice pose - one arm on her hip, the other extended ever so slightly, a slight smile on her face. She's in a nice spot in the palace gardens, out in the sun and not far from the fountain. There are worse places to be in this world.

She remembers a name; her name? She's not sure, but it would make sense. It's ‘Connie.’ She's Connie. She thinks.

It's a nice afternoon. There's a few nobles milling about in the garden, but they don't draw her attention. It's a boy in a pink vest, looking slightly lost and curious, wandering towards her. He seems decidedly _troubled_ as he sits by her pedestal, sighing as he looks up at the cloudless sky.

“Why don't they understand?” he asks.

She wonders who ‘they’ are.

The boy folds his hands over his stomach. “I know they want me to be like mom. I know it's what I'm meant to be, but it's _hard_. I'm not a ruler, y’know? I'm a Steven.”

He looks up at her and smiles ruefully.

“Must be nice, being a statue,” he says. “You don't have to worry about anything.”

It's the first time he comes, but not the last.

In spring he picks flowers, and shows her his favourites; then returns the next day, forlorn. “Yellow thinks I shouldn't like flowers,” he says. “She says it's unbecoming.” Yet he does it still, and it charms her.

In summer he brings a newspaper and reads it to her, but quickly they both grow bored. So he returns with books - old fairy tales are his favourites. “White says I shouldn't bother with fantasy,” he says, “but I like it.”

In autumn he comes out in the cool wind, clad in a warm cloak, and plays in the leaves. He puts one in her hand; “Blue thinks I shouldn't give people gifts, but it looks good on you!” He beams - she likes his smile.

One winter night he comes out looking devastated.

“They've sold you,” he says flatly. “They… they don't like me talking to you. They don't like _anything _I do, so… so I'm running away. I want to find my dad.”

He looks down at his feet, not daring to meet her stone eyes.

“I don't want to leave you,” he says, and he sounds like he might cry. “I don't want to leave anyone. But… but I have to go. I hope you understand.”

He looks from left to right, climbs onto her pedestal, and plants a gentle kiss on her hand. And for a moment, just a moment, she can perceive a _glow_.

An alien sensation fills her, and she takes a hesitant step.

Steven’s eyes widen as she looks around, testing her fingers, wriggling her toes. She looks down at her hand - still marble, but _moving_ \- and then at Steven’s pink orbs.

“I can move,” she says lamely.

“Yeah, you can,” he says, equally lamely.

Slowly, he helps her down - her skin is hard and cool, and yet she's surprisingly light. For a moment, they stand in silence in the wintery moonlit night.

“So…” Steven scratches the back of his head. “Uh… run away with me?”

Connie smiles for the first time she can really remember.

“Okay,” she says.

At dawn, the nobles will look at the pedestal and scratch their heads, wondering what had happened. Steven running away? Sure, they could predict that. But Steven taking that statue with him? Preposterous! Utterly preposterous!

But that will be tomorrow. Tonight, a boy with an unwanted destiny and a statue with an unknown past are fleeing their palatial prison. They don't know where they're going, or what they'll find - but from this beautiful moment on, they are _free_.


	2. Fellowship

**Fellowship**

Amethyst is sad.

She’s lived under the palace her whole life, being fed by sympathetic kitchen staff. She sometimes plays with some of the servant’s children, but they're a little scared of her. Her only real friend is Steven, and Steven is gone.

He's the only one who's never cared that she's a dwarf, or that she smells a little different. He likes her for who she is, even visited her little hole under the foundations, and it makes Amethyst’s heart sink that he left without saying goodbye…

...until she finds the note in her hole.

She slips out the next night, breezing past the guards with relative ease. (She wonders, errantly, if they’d have been able to sneak up on her if they didn’t wear such bright, white uniforms and big, brimmed hats.) On her person, she carries only a small bag of her stuff and a little whip for protection. She creeps past White’s prized collection of carriages and crosses the moat, and then quickly passes through the meadow and into the forest.

She finds him at the old watermill, standing next to a _rosa gerona_ marble statue that glistens slightly in the moonlight. She’s decidedly impressed.

“Oh wow, you swiped a _statue?_ I just took some quills, dude, that’s pretty amazing!”

The statue turns to face her and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Whoa, that’s… that’s freaking _awesome_,” she exclaims. “So, you got a name?”

“I’m Connie,” the statue says, offering her hand. Amethyst thinks she’s supposed to shake it, but instead she gives her a low five.

“Amethyst, man! I’m Steven’s bestie!” she replies. “Or at least one of ‘em - you’re the statue he talks to a bunch, right? I never knew you guys were a thing!”

Steven blushes, and for a moment Amethyst thinks Connie does too.

“Oh, we’re… we’re definitely not…”

“_Uh huh_, cool, whatever,” Amethyst nods. “Man, if I’d known statues could talk and junk I’d have tried to make friends with that gargoyle thing on the roof. That guy looks rad as-”

“They can’t talk, Amethyst,” replies Steven. “I brought Connie to life… I think.”

“You _think?_”

“I’m not sure,” explains Connie. “I… I _feel _like I wasn’t always a statue, but I can’t really remember being anything else. There’s a _before_, but it’s… _blurry._”

Amethyst nods, scratching her chin.

“But the most important thing,” she says, “is that you finally worked out a spell, dude!”

“Well, it wasn’t really a _spell_,” shrugs Steven, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s more like a… um… magic spit, maybe?”

“...why the heck are you spittin’ on statues, Steven?”

Steven swallows but doesn’t reply. Amethyst decides not to press the matter.

“So, where’re we going, gang?” she asks. “Or are we a fellowship now? Like in the old bard’s tales?”

“I wanna find my father,” says Steven, “but I don’t know much about him. I know he was a travelling musician, and I _think_ his last name’s Universe like mine, but the Diamonds never told me anything else.”

“Well there can’t be that many Universes, right?” says Connie, shrugging. “It’s not like ‘Smith’ or anything.”

Amethyst purses her lips.

“Why don’t we ask in town?” she asks. “There’s one west of here, right? ‘Least that’s what the servants told me.”

Steven nods. “We’ll start there, yeah.”

He holds out his hand.

“Fellowship?”

Connie seems slightly hesitant.

“I’ve, uh, I don’t think I’ve had friends before,” she says. “Or a fellowship or anything. I mean, even _before_, it just feels like…”

She allows herself a small smile and extends a marble hand.

“Fellowship.”

“Fellowship, dog!” exclaims Amethyst! “Steven, Ames and Connie, kicking butt and taking names!”

“I, uh, I don’t think we can ‘kick butt,’” said Connie. “I might, y’know, _break._”

“And I don’t have a sword,” adds Steven.

“Lucky for you guys, I can kick butt for three,” declares Amethyst. “Come on! Let’s go find your dad!”

She laughs as she takes the lead, strolling confidently into the trees, her companions chasing after her as they disappear into the night.

* * *

“Captain Jasper.”

“My Diamond?”

“You _will_ bring back Starlight, do you understand me? We need him to complete Pink’s destiny.”

“Yes ma’am. And his companions?”

“...they’re not needed alive…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like we've got ourselves a team!


	3. Modern Marvels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [realfakedoors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/realfakedoors/pseuds/realfakedoors) for proofreading!

**Modern Marvels**

“Step right up and behold the future!”

Peridot stands on top of a box, holding up a peculiar contraption. She presents an oddball sight - she’s a short gnome (that is to say, _all _gnomes are short, but she is short even for a gnome) with triangle-shaped hair, eyes framed by enormous glasses. She wears a tie and has a top hat sitting next to her, but also dons soot-covered overalls and a big backpack full of mechanical bits.

The contraption is even odder. It looked like a miner’s lamp, but it’s covered in wires and attached to a wooden board - to the side of it is a crank.

“Do _you_ hate having to deal with candles?” she asks. “Do you _loathe_ having to make that light incantation every time you go into a dark area? Well, I, _Peridot_, have created an ingenious solution! Behold! A lamp powered by a whole new element - _electricity!_”

She motions to the sign on her box - _THE GREAT AND WONDROUS PERIDOT AND HER REVOLUTIONARY MARVEL OF ELECK TRYSITY!_

“‘Ow’s it work, then?!” an orc in the small crowd bellows.

“I’m glad you asked, my big smelly friend!”

“What?”

“One simply has to pull the crank,” she continues. “And presto! You have-”

“Oi! You! What have we told you about unsanctioned tinkering?!”

A few members of the local constabulary push through the crowd, clubs drawn.

“You are _not _a member of the Yellow Diamond Society of Tinkerers!” one of the constables snaps.

“I tried to join them! They said they didn’t accept gnomes!”

“Don’t matter! You’re under arrest for inventing without a license!”

Peridot swallows.

“Well, uh, that’s a good point there, and…” She points behind them. “Hey look! It’s Yellow Diamond! She’s being mugged!”

The constables turn, startled, and Peridot makes a break for it. She leaps off the box, shoves her contraption into her pack and climbs onto her noble steed - a rented donkey.

“Ride for the hills, Handy!”

The donkey cries out and gallops away, Peridot holding on for dear life.

“Stop her! Stop her!”

She hears the constables chasing after her, but they can’t keep up on foot. She laughs, turning back and waving mockingly at them.

“Eat my dust, you small-minded clods!” she shouts. “You and your dumb little tinkerer socie—_aaaaah!_”

The donkey has run over an embankment, and now both are tumbling downhill towards the forest, leaving the gathering far behind.

* * *

“Stupid donkey… one day I’ll invent a clockwork horse and that’ll show it.”

Peridot is trudging through the trees, abandoned by Handy the donkey. She’s covered in mud and brambles and bruises, but she’s lost the guards. Now she needs to figure out where to go next.

Presently she reaches a sign carved into a tree trunk; _Beechton, 2 miles. _She scratches her chin, pondering.

“Beechton, huh?” She smiles. “Yes, they sound like a community that would appreciate a modern marvel! To Beechton it is!”

She strides off, unaware that her path will soon intersect with the scion of Pink Diamond himself…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's peraldod


	4. The Town Without Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [realfakedoors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/realfakedoors/pseuds/realfakedoors) for proofreading!

**The Town Without Song**

The first thing the fellowship notices about Beechton is how _grey_ it seems.

There’s colour, certainly - Blue Diamond’s guards with their sky-blue coats, marching up and down the streets. But everything else seems faded, worn, run-down, as if the cobbled streets and brick buildings themselves suffuse a continuous lament, following the ebb and flow of of a long-forgotten sea. 

As they walk towards the central tavern, they encounter the possible cause.

A bard is being bundled into the back of a wagon by the soldiers, one of whom smashes his lute with his weapon.

“Blue Diamond,” snarls the sergeant, “strictly prohibits song in her territories.”

“I didn’t know!” shouts the bard. “I swear, I didn’t know!”

“Tell that to the magistrate,” spits a soldier. “Music’s an ‘angin’ offense!”

“Isn’t that a bit _extreme?_”

“Stop resisting, stop resisting!” bellows the sergeant, punching the bard in the face and knocking him on his back in the wagon.

Steven stares, slack-jawed, as the wagon speeds off down the street.

“Blue… Blue doesn’t allow singing?” he stammers. “I know she doesn’t like it, but… she’s _banned music?_”

“Did you know about this, Amethyst?” quizzes Connie.

Amethyst shrugs.

“I’ve never left the palace, dude.”

Before long, they’re standing in front of the tavern - the Engoriated Croissant. It’s a stately enough establishment, but its seen better days. What must have once been brilliant pink paintwork has faded to a dull, dusty brown. A sign promising eveningsong lies smashed and broken in the gutter.

As their group of three enter, they find a lanky half-elf behind the counter, looking decidedly bored. He barely looks up as they walk towards him.

“Yeah, what’s your poison?”

“I don’t like poison,” replies Steven. “I generally find it kills people.”

The man at the counter thins his lips.

“...right,” he says. “You, uh, you blow in from Stupid Town?”

“No, I’m from-”

“We’re just passin’ through,” Amethyst interrupts. “Lookin’ for a minstrel.”

The tavern goes dead silent. Somebody reaches out and drops his mug for dramatic effect.

The barman’s expression darkens.

“We ain’t seen a minstrel here since they took Sa- since they took the other bartender away,” he replies. “Now get outta here before you bring the town guard down on us.”

“Are you sure?” asks Connie. “Because he’s got a pretty unusual name. Universe, I think…”

“Nope! Nope! Not listening!” The barman sticks his fingers in his ears and shuts his eyes.

“I’m sorry, did you say… _Universe?_”

The group turns. There’s an older woman sitting by the window, a large jug of mead in her hands. She looks tired - save for Blue, Steven’s never seen someone look so weary at heart.

“Y-yeah,” he says.

The woman sends him a sad smile.

“I knew a Universe,” she says. “_Greg_ Universe. She taught my kid to play.”

“Barb…” says the barman warily.

“Come on, Lars, it’s not illegal to _talk _about it,” Barb replied.

Lars huffs and crosses his arms.

“He was here a good few years,” Barb continues, a sad smile on her face as Steven and his friends walk over. “When the music ban came down he set up as an underground bard, teaching his trade to others. Said they could never truly _ban _song.”

“And what happened to him?” Steven asks nervously.

“Same thing that happens to every musician in this town; they found him and took him away,” replies Barb.

Steven’s eyebrows raise up. “Where to?”

“The town lockup,” says Lars. “It’s just past the square. Not that you’ll be able to get in.”

Amethyst smirks.

“Oh yeah?” She winks. “I reckon we can find a way…”

* * *

“So what’re you in for?”

“Unsolicited tinkering.”

“Dang.”

Peridot sighs as she sits against the wall of the cell. Across from her, an orc sits on the bench and stares out the barred window.

She has to hand it to them - the Diamonds work _quick._ By the time she’s reached Beechton, Yellow’s goons have let Blue’s goons know she’s coming, and one quick and enlightening encounter with the constabulary and she’s in a nice, damp dungeon cell. Lovely. Thank the makers for the realm’s finest.

She sighs and lays back, eyes closed. She takes in the sound of the dripping roof, and the wind blowing through the corridor, and the front gates of the gaol being kicked in, and she-

...wait.

..._what?_


End file.
